


Sunday Afternoon

by achievewriting



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Medication, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 20:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievewriting/pseuds/achievewriting
Summary: You and Trevor take care of one another.





	Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> a [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/2vO1wr5wIEHqQmY4jWbuhi?si=EUdUW0ndSNuwnFvpgNc2lQ) and another [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Kt1OrgpAZusv2FtlgaVzn?si=5O_hK66MQJS1AFMQebJxHg)

“Did you take that Advil?”

Trevor hums his ‘uh huh’ without looking up from the mug of tea he’s intent on not spilling. His footsteps are slow and careful, a dance of stopping and starting every time the hot liquid threatens to slop over the side. You watch his face as he places it hastily on your end of the coffee-table, and the cringe that bares his teeth is just enough to make you laugh out loud.

Trevor looks at you incredulously, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips foils the offended facade. “I get off my ass, make you tea, burn my hands bringing it to you, and all I get from the lady is scorn?” As he speaks, he shakes his hand in the air above you before wiping it on the thigh of his sweatpants, spilt tea staining the grey fabric dark.

“You get the pleasure of bringing me laughter and comfort in these trying times.” You offer with a coy smile, sitting up slightly from the mound of cushions between your back and the armrest of the couch. Your book falls closed in your lap, your thumb holding your place in the pages.

With a hand placed on your raised knee, he leans down closer to you. “Lucky me.”

_No_ , you think,  _lucky me._ His nose is red and raw in contrast to his pale lips, and his eyes sport deeper, redder bags than usual. But they still glint with warm, honey-colored mischief as Trevor studies your face, and his smile makes you simper and blush. And really you  _were_ going to get up yourself when you said how much you needed a hot drink, he just beat you to it. You let go of your teasing act and smile softly, “Thank you, Trev.”

“Any time, baby.” Leaning closer again, he presses his lips to yours in what starts as a quick, simple kiss. He lingers, tender in the way his mouth moulds to yours; but your nose is wet, and he tastes like cough medicine.

“No, gross!” You place a gentle hand on his jaw and lean away, laughing. “Sorry, babe, but I do not need anymore of your cooties.”

_“My_ cooties?” Trevor stands to his full height, sauntering to the other end of the couch to gather the blanket from where he left it. “I’ll have you know I got these cooties from you!”

“You absolutely did not.” You hide your guilty smile behind a tissue, obliging as Trevor pries your legs open.

“That’s a lie and you know it.” He drops himself into the space in front of you, nestling his back against your stomach and pulling his blanket up over your legs to his chin. You hum, a noise of neither denial nor admittance, and place a tender kneading hand on the back of his neck, watching over his shoulder while he browses YouTube. His skin is balmy under your touch.

“Is your hand okay?”

Not looking up from his phone, he lifts his arm backwards from the cover of blankets, palm presented to you. “It’ll never recover.” Again, you can hear the smile that spoils his tragic, unappeasable tone.

You laugh, not out loud but from your chest, and you have to press your face to the crook of your elbow as a coughing fit racks your lungs. Out of breath, you sink back into the cushions to see Trevor craning his neck and watching you with concern. You smile reassuringly as you take his still outstretched hand and press a kiss to the angry red skin of his palm. It smells like English Breakfast. “Love you.”

His hand lingers, thumb stroking gently at your flushed cheek. “Love you,” Trevor offers in return. Warm. Soft. His hand drops back to the blankets and he settles in further between your legs as his video begins casting to the TV.

You open your book to where you left off and with one hand prop it against the top of Trevor’s head. You do so without second guessing yourself—he’s said before he doesn’t mind, even thinks it’s cute. As he winds an arm around your thigh to cuddle it to his chest—his fingers stroking idle, lazy circles in the fabric of your leggings—you can imagine the little smile on his lips. With your free hand you reach for your tea.

Soon the low sound of _'Sharpest jello kitchen knife in the world’_ is tuned out in favor of the pages you flip through. You reach the bottom of your tea sooner than you’d like. Trevor’s a warm and welcome weight on your belly, your chest. Your flu relief medication kicks in, and a good part of the afternoon and your book pass by without you paying much mind.

Yet another _kitchen knife_ video ends, only this time Trevor doesn’t stir to change it over. You wait and watch the auto-play load, but still he lays quiet, breathing steadily. Retiring your book to the coffee table and craning as gently as you can, you see he’s asleep. Completely out of it, his phone dangling precariously from a slack fist and face pressed to the knit of your sweater.

Your heart swells, and you thank god he’s getting some rest. The dark circles under his eyes are so much more prominent in sleep, his eyelashes black against blue. You’re sure they’re no worse than your own.

Without your book to distract you from the weight in the back of your skull, and Trevor so warm and—dare you say it—cuddly against your body, resisting the pull of a nap seems impossible. Your now idle hands find themselves in Trevor’s hair, carding through the length of it and stroking his hairline the way you know he melts for.

It’s just like that you stay, Trevor cradled to your chest and pseudoephedrine nursing you into a sleep that lets the remainder of the afternoon slip away.


End file.
